Love and Other Large Things
by MaggslovesPerry
Summary: My Tribute to John Green
1. Intro

Dear people who click on this,

I like to think of these pieces as a tribute to John Green, not so much as a fan fiction. John Green has a way of writing that encircles you with it's poetic qualities, and it's love and trouble. He is, by far, the best author I have ever read a book by; and that book is The Fault in Our Stars. For those of you who haven't read it, do. It is my favoritest (not only a word but my favoritest word ) book in the whole wide world (though I haven't read all of those books). I've always liked to write, and writing a book like The Fault in Our Stars (though no one can EVER EVER write anything close to the level of John Green) would be a dream for me. So… I did some experimenting, and wrote about love and other large things. So, John Green, my tribute to you (though in no way am I up to your standard, She who dares, wins right?). Three tales of love, lust… and death.

-MaggslovesPerry


	2. The Storm Trance

**-I am ordering these in my least favorite- to favorite. This one is ehh… but fits in the scheme- especially with the Augustus Waters-ian half smile. And that feeling of the end… maybe-sorta. **

The Storm Trance

I watched the fathomless clouds bustle themselves up in as much glory they could muster, filled with a black pride of droplets, almost to the point of release. I turned and looked across the truck to where Miles sat, his arm leaning out the open window from which I could smell the static of before a storm. His eyes were on the dark road, though the green letters on the dashboard said 3:34, in the afternoon, too early to be dark in the early fall. The clouds made everything a more fathomless dark, a kind of trance, in which I felt like I could watch the clouds form and reform forever.

Miles smiled, showing his teeth on the right side, and covering them on the left side. I put a hand on his shoulder and turned back to my window. He slowed down as I unstrapped and stood, pushing my head and shoulders out of the truck as it started to rain. Large droplets splattering on my face, blinded me, and it took me a minute to realize that he had pulled off the road.

We were on the edge of a huge field, fathomless in its nature. Long grasses swayed in the wind and the rain spun them around in dizzying circles. I couldn't help but watch, but as a hand touched mine, I retreated back to the warmth of the passenger seat as he opened the door for me.

I stepped out daintily, and he held out his hand. A real gentlemen.

"Miles."

He turned.

"Am I the only one who is thinking about how movie-like this is?"

He laughed.

"I mean really, I can't say I don't love it, but.."

"Cliche?" His voice was mahogany, dusted, fine, smooth. It was deep, and steady, firm. Kind. I laughed, my voice sounding like an old clarinet to his.

But he smiled too, and I knew that it was fine, that my clarinet was not that bad to him.

"So," I asked. "Um… wonderful weather we're having isn't it?"

His face broke, even teeth taking up every clear space, contrasting with the darkness of his skin; just like his mahogany voice and his crinkled eyes. He was laughing, and suddenly the tension was broken and we were chasing each other.

He was faster, and wet jeans were hard to run in, so it wasn't a surprise when I flopped down onto the cool grass and he sat beside me.

The landscape around us was blurred into a watercolor painting; the artist careless with his strokes though, he had paid special attention to a particular mahogany boy and a clarinet girl shivering in wet clothes.

"Mirabel, Do you remember our first date?"

"I think the real question is, could I ever forget our first date?"

He laughed, but quieter this time, just for me.

"I was so nervous."

I smiled at him, and he touched my hand.

"I was! You're the most beautiful girl I've seen. I'm surprised someone as strange as me could get you."

I smiled in spite of myself, and tapped his hand back; a frenzy of imaginary code.

Tap, tap, tap.

I. Love. You.

I sent the vibes.

I was mid thought when lightning tore at the sky and thunder shook the grasses.

We both jumped up and tore back towards the car, all thought of just rain gone. I sat, dripping in the passenger seat and he grabbed a towel from the back rubbing my shoulders.

We waited out the storm. Sitting, watching, kissing, talking. I wish sometimes that I could go back to that day. To watch him again.

Some days everything could be perfect, some days everything was gone. I was lucky for the days I got.


	3. Once upon a Time it Rained

**Okay- Prepare yourself for love. Good god, while you still can. **

Once Upon a Time; it Rained

I love the feeling of waking up before the alarm clock, being able to lie until the ringing disrupts my intense happiness.

That's how the best day of my life began. It was the day of our first date.

The world starts out as a blur, an illusion of my green room, my favorite lacy black shirt laid out for the ninety seventh day of tenth grade. And a pair of plain jeans, my converse and a light coat for a Maryland winter day.

But it sharpens pretty quickly and I stand up, to stumble into the half-ass shower our house sports in all of its single bathroom glory.

The warm water is heavenly after the cold tiles and the steam hangs around my head like a halo. As I step out, I hear my alarm clock ring once from my room across the hall, and smile.

I hear my mom rolling around in her bed through the wall as I pull on the jeans and the lacy top. I'm dressed with my purple backpack over one shoulder as I come downstairs and Mom is sitting drinking coffee in her plaid bathrobe.

I walk to pour myself some coffee and she holds out an arm.

"Shandee, no more coffee, you'll be shorter than I am."

"Mom, I'm already taller than you, remember?"

She withdraws her arm laughing slightly, "Oh, whatever."

We smile at each other as I pour my coffee. Then I sit and she hands me a cinnamon bagel, "Happy Friday!"

"Yayy…" I smile, then offer. "I'll be out late tonight."

"Don't get pregnant," She grins, and walks upstairs.

I finish the bagel and pour the coffee into a travel container for the bus and walk out into the crisp air.

The bus comes at exactly seven thirty and I walk on, backpack swinging behind me. She isn't on my bus, so I just think about her while I'm there.

"Shandee?" I turn and Robert is grinning at me.

"Hey Robert. What can I help you with?"

"I was just wondering if the rumours are true?"

"I dunno Robert, I really don't know." I turn away from his annoyed face and towards the houses passing out of the foggy window.

"Jeez, Shandee, I was just asking." He turns and I watch him strut back up the aisle.

I grin and watch the school pull into sight and there is Naomi, pulling up in her old car, squealing and laughing at herself. I wave, but she doesn't see me.

First period I have Chemistry, but instead I meet her in the bathroom, our usual place. Third stall on the right, in front of the sink. Her honey hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and I look at my short strands of black hair in the mirror for a moment.

"Shandee," She smiles, and kisses me on the nose; on tiptoe, because I'm taller.

"Naomi. We still on for tonight?"

Her red lips part in a smile, and she hugs me tight around the middle.

"Could I not spend a Friday night together with you? Though, remind me of your opinion of ballroom dancing."

"As in traditional?"

She nods.

I consider, then smile, "If it's with you."

She laughs, "Oh stop, you're making me sick with your adorability."

I smile and we hug once again.

"Lunch?" I ask.

"Lunch." She says.

I can't stop smiling all the rest of Chemistry.

Unfortunately, I don't have lunch until fifth period, so I have to get through World Cultures, PE, and Experimental Art before I can see her again, but when lunch comes around, she's waiting for me in the cafeteria, a green lunchbox before her.

"Naomi." I say, sitting down.

"Shandee." She says.

"Ugh, these stares bother me! Shall we walk?" Already, we have been pointed out. Its as if people still can't get over that there are lesbians in the world.

She nods, and we stand, amid giggles from others.

We walk the empty halls until the bell rings, and I eat lunch in the back of Geometry.

The afternoon passes quickly and I meet her at her car after the last period.

We drive, with OneRepublic and Imagine Dragons. Neither knows where we are going, until she stops at a bridge, and she turns the radio all the way up. I open the door and we stand on the edge, laughing at the gulls (I'm not even sure they know how they got to Maryland).

The radio changes to the Fray, and she undoes her hair. I laugh as it blows into my face and she smiles, kisses me again.

We sit there for a long time, and a storm starts to brew. We drive again to an abandoned street corner, where we waltz to the wrong music. And laugh, and fall.

She pulls flowers out of the back of her car and we take turns tossing them into the river. Which one? I don't think anyone but the old man buying groceries knows.

Next its a field of grasses, somewhere far away from people. I don't know how far we are from school, but It's getting dark.

"Never fear." Naomi laughs and pulls out a picnic. We joke about the magic quality of the trunk of her car, and we put down all the seats. She drives out into the middle of the field, and we eat.

It starts to rain, but we are in her car, with the seats down, sitting cross legged, eating cheese and salami and bread; the best meal of my life. The rain pours in large drops on the roof, and she opens the door to let me out.

We waltz again, this time to no music, just us, then foxtrot, then slow dance. The rain is the rhythm, the fellow dancers, the music. All in one.

Finally, we turn back into the car, soaking, dripping all over the seats. We drive back again, with the Script and Mumford and Sons. She's laughing at me, and I'm talking.

"What would I be doing if I wasn't with you?" I ask.

"Please tell," Her eyes stray from the road for a moment and I take in the blue quality of the colors in those shells of mascara and slight eye shadow.

"Probably watching a bad movie in my room. Or maybe watching a good movie in my room."

"I would be outside, maybe. But only because it's raining."

"The rain is best to be observed on a roof, unless it's a thunderstorm. Then, sit with a flashlight and read a scary book."

She nods, and I change the CD, noticing for the first time that there is no music. This

time I find Maroon 5, but instead of putting it on, I change it back to Mumford and Sons, and I skip to the song I Will Wait.

Let me tell you, there is nothing in the world grander than making out on the side of a road in the rain, to the song I Will Wait, by Mumford and Sons. I feel sorry for those who have not yet been able to experience this.

When she drops me home, I turn and kiss her on the cheek, a parting gift. Mom is asleep, with a note and a piece of chocolate cake. I accept both, reading the note.

_I don't want to know. Oh sweetheart, I'm kidding. I love you. Sleep well. Dream good _

_things for me. Rambling…. okay. Well, sleep well. Is it weird that I'm waiting for you to respond? Probably. _

I walk upstairs, and am in my room half an hour later when the phone rings. I dash out into the hall, hoping that it won't wake Mom up and answer it, expecting a business call.

But its a different voice answering me.

"Hello, have I reached the Maller residence?"

"Yes, this is Shandee."

"Hey, its Naomi, umm… It's really cold out. But I have ice cream anyway. Could you let

me in?"

"Naomi? How are you um… Okay, I'm coming."

"Thanks. Bye."

I run downstairs again and pull open the door to see Naomi standing, soaked, holding a pint of vanilla ice cream.

"I was still hungry and wanted to see you." She apologizes, but I hug her, and pull her in, slamming the door behind her.

We sit at the kitchen table and eat ice cream, passing the pint back and forth.

I'm almost finished when I hear a stair creak and see Mom heading down the stairs, still in her plaid bathrobe.

"Hey." She says quietly, and Naomi turns to look.

"Um. Hi, I'm Naomi." It's the first time I see Naomi a little apprehensive.

"Hey." Mom looks at me a moment, then says, "Well, now I'm sure its not burglars, I think I'll go to bed."

She kisses me on the top of the head, waves at Naomi, and leaves.

Naomi stands up, and kisses me too.

"I think I'll leave." She smiles.

"I'm sorry." I smile a little.

She kisses me again, and smiles fully. "It's fine. I love you."

"I love you too."

And she leaves too.

As I suspect, Mom is waiting at the top of the stairs.

I open my mouth to explain, but she holds up a finger, then pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm so happy for you, Shandee."

Suddenly we are both crying and laughing and hugging like we will never let go.

She kisses me on the top of the head again, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The phone rings again, and I pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, did I mess it up?"

"No, Naomi, she's fine."

I can hear her smile, and I picture it, her red lips parting to reveal white teeth, because, unlike me, she doesn't drink coffee.

I smile too, and we hang up at the same time.

Predictably, it takes me forever to go to sleep, and I watch my alarm clock count down the minutes until the perfect day ends.


	4. Wings of an Angel

**Last one… My favorite. God, I don't remember when I wrote this though… sometime after TFioS. **

Wings of an Angel

Alone is the best way I like me. A strange sentence, no doubt, but alone is best, where I can jump into the chilling substance of my thoughts. Alone, with no noise but the grinding of the house, the moonlight's rippling laughter echoing amongst my curtains, and my footsteps on the polished wood of my bedroom.

Alone is the way I feel like myself, and usually my parents know not to bother me. But you didn't, and the last night we were together; I was alone before you texted me.

I remember the moonlight being vivid that night and in the wee hours of the morning, I was pacing as usual. My bed had been pushed to the side so that I could walk along the floor to the right of it. My dark purple walls looked black, though the moonlight was almost like sunlight; he obvious exception being that I saw moonlight being silver, and sunlight being gold. I enjoyed moonlight more.

I was glancing out of the window when I saw headlights creeping towards our house. Taking little notice, I turned and faced the door of my bedroom. As I debated getting some coffee, my phone buzzed and I flopped on the bed to grab it; for I had earlier discarded it.

You had texted me.

_Love, I'm outside you know there are three days until college I need you out here now, so we can drive around, and dance by the river like in those movies_

Driven out of my silence, I smiled and my fingers fluttered over the keys for a moment before I replied.

_Catch me?_

I walked over to my closet, debated getting dressed, then decided to go in my black skulled pajama pants and old angry birds tee. I tucked my phone into the pocket of my pants and, crossing to the window, I balanced on the edge, then jumped down out of it, into your well muscled arms.

Your hair was wet, and your tee drenched in water from the river. I breathed in your sweet scent and wrapped my arms around your neck. In that way, we walked to your beat up old Toyota. I wrapped myself in the plaid blanket you had in the passenger seat, though the night was sticky with warmth.

We drove, and after you were out of the residential neighborhood, you turned on the cd player. It was one of those bands where all is calm until the chorus, when the singing turns to a shout of agony. Hard guitar was your favorite companion.

You finally stopped at a river, which one I didn't know; much less didn't care. I was caught up in you, with your hair sticking up in the back, and your mouth drawn up in the drawl I had come to know so well. You were beautiful. I placed the phone on the seat, and your eyes held mine for a moment.

And I felt like nothing, with my dark hair and dark eyes and pale face. I felt like nothing, and I was nothing. I knew that most of the time. But with our hands entwined by the river, I felt like something for a moment. I felt like part of you.

"Three days." It was almost a whisper.

You turned, his bottom half in the river, your top half shirtless. Your eyebrows spoke to me, dancing.

"I love you. College won't change that."

I nodded, but you knew me better than that.

You dove and I admired your shoulders, the curve of your back. I stood and walked into the water. As it wove around my bare feet, I felt the rocks, and you and the river were more real than my parents, or my room, or college. We were real.

You came up again, and grabbed my feet. I fell, splashing and the water engulfed the two of us. We floated, and the moonlight was more beautiful, and somehow more terrifying than it was in my room. You grabbed my hand and we spun in the shadows of the overhanging trees.

"Please." I whispered into your shoulder as you held me close, our wet bodies fitting together just right.

"There are lots of cheerleaders at college. I can't win you again."

You nodded, and let me fly free, spinning, close to the water. I closed my eyes and we were flying over, away, to where my parents weren't. To where you and I were together always.

I kissed you solemnly and we held on to the moment for a while, not together as beings, but as minds, as romantics can be.

But when we returned to the car, something was wrong. You were digging through the back for booze, and I consumed in getting you not to. I clung to your arm and you tried to shake me off.

"Warren, please stop." I grabbed your open shoulder, and you finally turned.

"Ashe, I need this, okay? My life… is hell. You are the sun on a dark horizon. I can't have you turn against me."

Your voice was hoarse, pain coursing through it with a dark anger. A side I had seen before, but never when you weren't high. You were scary, and I was weak. I was stupid, but I backed off and let you drink for a moment, leaning against the side of the car.

I watched the bottle empty.

And still it was a while before you straightened up.

"Warren," I started, but you interrupted me.

"Listen Ashe, college won't change me. I have sworn to myself it won't. I'm a C student, you're a B+ student. Yet we loved each other."

"Loved?" My voice quavered.

"Loved." He said. "I can't deal with my life while I'm gone. I won't change into someone new, but I won't be myself either. I need someone I can be, but I can't be."

My head reeled.

"An angel?" I was almost shaking.

"Sure." You pulled another bottle out, and I grabbed it from you, smashing it on the pavement.

A roar pierced the night and you lifted me up and pushed me into the passenger seat, then slumped onto the wheel.

"Don't you fight me, Ashe."

We drove back in silence to my house. I kissed you, but you pushed me away. I was scared at how quickly everything had changed. The monstrosity of it all was too big for me. You were the love I knew, and you were the love I hated. I grabbed my phone, then got out and stood, watching you drive away, then swerve for a small animal. But it seemed your drunken mind could turn the wheel again, for you hurdled towards the woods, and then flew through until a tree swallowed all sight of you.

For a moment, I couldn't move. You were about to pop up, and laugh and kiss me and it would go back to how it was supposed to be. But I knew. I knew.

"Warren!" Even the call seemed unreal. The only thoughts were of how this must not be. How this was not. It was not.

I ran forward, my bare feet cut on the glass of the pavement. I ran, bleeding and sobbing for you. But there was no response. Nothing came from the car, or the street.

The car was bent, and I couldn't see you, I cried to the street, for help, for anyone, and finally, a light turned on in my parents' room.

"Mom! Dad!"

"Ashe? What are you doing up?"

The world turned to a blur of tears, and there were red lights and flashes and noises.

My father led me to bed after a moment, and sat on the end of my bed until I fell asleep. The next morning I did not wake until three, when I crept to the bathroom, washed my face, got a cup of tea, and went back to bed.

The days have passed Warren. You left, and you got to be yourself, and not yourself. An angel, as we called it that night.

So now, I sleep and dream and talk little. I maintain B+'s at school because teachers are nice. I like to imagine sometimes, your lean body swimming, and me sitting on the riverbank. I like to imagine how it could have ended.

I painted white angel wings on the dark purple. At this time of night, the moonlight hits them, silver on white. Alone is how I like best.

No one stares, asks if I'm alright. There is no pity. There is no sound, just my footsteps, the groans of the house, the curtains, and occasionally, the sound of a passing car.

I will never paint an angel for those wings. You are the angel, and you aren't here, yet I can hear you laughing through the curtains. I can hear your songs on the radio. I can hear your whistle in the guy my dad pays to mow the lawn. Sometimes I think, that you are in all of those things. Sometimes I think you are there. I don't know whether its a curse or a blessing.

And the only time I feel really alone are these times, pacing, with the silver moonlight and absence of sounds. Alone is how I like it best, Warren. Alone.


End file.
